


honor

by supernovaa78



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, this really fucking kills me, what the fuck, why did i do this to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 15:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovaa78/pseuds/supernovaa78
Summary: "I'm a Shadowhunter. This is about family, tradition, honor.""Honor? Where's the honor in living a lie?"—My take on what would've happened if Alec couldn't bring himself to live his truth.





	honor

**Author's Note:**

> tbh this is just me mentally killing myself and i sincerely apologize for this train wreck of a story

_**What if Alec couldn’t do it?** _

 

 _“I’m a Shadowhunter. This is about family, and tradition, honor.”_ That’s what Alec continued to tell himself all throughout the wedding. Chanting it over and over in his head, so loud that he was shocked that no one else could hear it. That or the pounding of his heart that threatened to burst right out of his chest.

Alec was so distracted by his nervousness that he didn’t notice his parents until they stood directly in front of him. His mother spoke first. “When you first proposed to Lydia, I’ll admit, I was wary. But now,” she straightened his suit, “I couldn’t be more proud.” Alec smiled. His father shook his hand and they both walked away, leaving him with Jace.

“All right. You ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good.” Jace straightened his lapels and fixed his bow tie.

“I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His parabatai clapped his shoulders. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Alec moved to the altar and shifted nervously on his feet for what felt like an eternity until Brother Jeremiah slammed his staff on the marble flooring. “Attention. The ceremony is about to commence.” Isabelle walked in, graceful as ever. She smiled at her brother as she ascended the altar. Then Lydia rounded the corner, adorning a wonderful wedding dress and holding a bouquet of red roses, as bright red as the blood rushing through Alec’s veins. He struggled to keep himself composed; he wanted nothing more than to run away from all of this madness.

Letting his imagination distract him, he wondered where he would go if he were to really leave this wedding. A face popped into his mind: eyes as bright as gold, tender hands that held his own, lips that he ached to kiss; and a name, a name as magnificent and elegant as it’s owner, graceful and composed: _Magnus._ Oh, how Alec longed to run to him, away from all of this insanity, and to just say _hold me_ and let the beautiful warlock wrap his slender arms around him and solve all his problems with a snap of his fingers.

Alec was yanked out of his reverie when Lydia reached the end of the aisle. He extended a hand out to her and helped her onto the altar. Turning, she took the bracelet from Izzy and slid it onto his wrist, smiling at him as she did so. Alec took the necklace from Jace; a beautifully carved pendant that he clipped around her neck. Lydia held his hand in hers. He didn’t like it; her hand was much smaller than his and it was unsettling.

Brother Jeremiah spoke next. “It is time for Alec Lightwood and Lydia Branwell to mark each other with the Wedded Union rune. A rune on the hand,” he touched his staff to the block of ice,” a rune on the heart; a union is born.”

Lydia delicately took the stele from Izzy and touched it to the ice; it let off a bit of steam and she pulled her hand away. She held his right hand in hers, bringing the stele closer to his wrist agonizingly slowly--

And suddenly the High Warlock of Brooklyn was striding into the room in all of his glory, and words that the warlock had once said were invading Alec’s mind: _“Honor? Where’s the honor in living a lie?”_

Every head in the Institute turned towards the wonderfully-dressed warlock, and Alec was faintly aware of his mother saying, “What’s that _warlock_ doing here?” Yet Alec wasn’t paying any attention; the imposing figure that was Magnus Bane had captivated him.

The whispering of his siblings snapped him out of his trace, “Izzy,” Jace breathed, “did Alec invite Magnus?” _No!_ Alec wanted to yell at his brother. Why would he invite Magnus if he knew something like _this_ would happen? “I did,” Izzy whispered. “But I didn’t think he’d show.” _Of course he would, Izzy,_ Alec thought. _Don’t be stupid._

Maryse stood from her seat and marched over to Magnus, eyes fiery and determined. “Magnus, leave this wedding _now_ ,” she hissed.

The warlock simply waved her away, barely sparing her a glance. “Maryse, this is between me and your son. I’ll leave if he asks me to.” Magnus stared up at Alec, almost as if he were challenging him to come down from the altar. Which, Alec supposed, he was.

Alec’s mind was on overdrive. By the Angel, he wanted to rush down there and wrap his arms around Magnus and press their lips together. So badly.

“You gonna be okay, buddy?” Jace’s voice drifted from behind him. _No,_ he thought, but was incapable of replying aloud.

Lydia, whom he’d forgotten was even there at all, spoke to him. “Alec. Hey.”

Alec was starting to feel like his chest was constricting in on his lungs. “I… I can’t breathe.”

Lydia smiled. “I know. It’s okay.”

“Just let me… Let me talk to him?” Alec hesitantly implored.

Lydia nodded, but the expression on her face told a different story. Alec pretended not to notice and turned towards the aisle.

 _Beautiful,_ he wanted to say, for that was the only word he could think of to describe the warlock at the other end of the room. Insanely beautiful, and he wanted to tell Mangus that, so badly. But he stopped himself before he did something he would come to regret. _Family, tradition, honor,_ he reminded himself. He was a shadowhunter; he didn’t have a choice.

Alec approached Magnus, his expression guarded. Maryse’s eyes widened and she strode over to her son. “Alec, what are you doing?”

“Trust me,” he told her. Magnus must have heard that, because when Alec turned back to him, his expression was saddened and his eyes weren’t as bright.

“Magnus--” he started, but the warlock didn’t allow him the dignity of finishing.

“Don’t bother, Alexander. I came here to give you one last chance, but it looks as if you’ve already made up your mind.” He sighed. “And I thought I could come here and convince you otherwise.” He laughed harshly, a sound completely devoid of joy, and began to turn away, but Alec grabbed his arm.

 _Kiss him, kiss him,_ his mind repeated. _Kiss him before you lose him forever--_

“It’s not because I don’t,” he lowered his voice, “ _like_ you, Magnus. It’s just--I’m a Shadowhunter. This is about family, and tradition,” his voice wavered, “honor.”

Magnus stared at him, and Alec could see that he was silently begging him to choose differently. But Alec could not do so, even though he wanted to more than he had ever wanted to do anything before. It was _killing him_ not to kiss the warlock then and there, right in front of everyone. Magnus parted his lips and whispered, almost soundlessly, “There is no honor in living a lie.” A tear ran down his face. “Goodbye, Alexander.” And with that, Magnus turned and walked out of the room, simultaneously walking out of Alec’s life forever.

 

SHADOWHUNTER DEAD,

CONFIRMED SUICIDE

 **Marcy Lars,** **_Shadow World Times_ **

**June 30, 2016**

**New York Institute**

Shadowhunter Alexander

Lightwood was found dead this

morning in his bedroom, a knife

through the heart. Authorities

have confirmed that it was,

regrettably, suicide. Family refused

to comment. As of yesterday, it had

been three months since Lightwood’s

marriage to Lydia Branwell, who

also refused to comment. However,

a statement was taken from

Shadowhunter Clary Fairchild:

_“I don’t think it was a coincidence_

_that the knife was_

_through his heart. Alec died of a_

_broken heart. That’s all_

_there is to it.”_ The Rite of Mourning

and funeral for our fallen comrade

will be tomorrow evening.

 

_**There really isn’t any honor in living a lie.** _


End file.
